


Escape in the Mirror

by smiles2go



Category: Alice (TV 2009), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursleys, Gen, Hermione Granger Bashing, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smiles2go/pseuds/smiles2go
Summary: First Year Harry finds out his friends aren't really his friends and that the Headmaster has ulterior motives. He sees a stranger watching him from the Mirror of Erised, twice.When he's sent back to his abusive relatives, the stranger steps out of the mirror, rescuses him from a beating and offers Harry a life on the other side of the mirror.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 139





	Escape in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I started a project earlier this year, a series of fics wherein a young Harry Potter was rescued while still a child so he didn’t suffer so much abuse. None of those are finished except Sanctuary, lol. This started out as one of those, but the characters had other ideas. Harry didn’t want to be a cute, abused kid and Hatter was quite attached to his criminal roots. This tickled my lazy muse into furious action and this fic was completed posthaste. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Alice 2009 because Andrew Lee Potts is so freakin hot and practically addictive. The made for TV miniseries has lots of problems, but none of them are Hatter. Hard to believe it’s been ten years. Andrew Lee Potts or ALP, also played Connor Temple on Primeval among many other things. 
> 
> After Alice went through the mirror, Jack turned on Hatter and had him thrown through the mirror to an unknown destination. He’s spent years searching for Alice. Hatter has lost a lot of the idealism Alice brought out in him and has reverted back to his … criminal ways to survive.
> 
> Harry Potter needs no introduction, but be warned this is a dark fic. Harry is not a nice, forgiving boy. I always thought the whole ‘abused, but forgiving’ thing a little unrealistic. This Harry is vindictive and trying his best to be a sociopath. 
> 
> Timelines don’t match so I ignored them as well as any horcrux. I also gave him the Invisibility Cloak before Christmas.
> 
> This is not beta’d. Hopefully, I’ve added enough commas to appease the grammar police.

**Escape in the Mirror**

**> ~<>~<>~<>~<**

The Headmaster should have known better than to give an eleven year old an invisibility cloak, especially a kid who knows people are keeping secrets about him. It would come in very handy this summer when he was returned to his relatives loving care. So would his very sharp set of potion knives wrapped in leather and buried deep in his trunk. If he couldn’t use magic on his relatives, he’d find something else. They were not going to hurt him again.

Harry made a habit of watching people, saw what they didn’t want seen. His safety, his life, depended on being one step ahead of his relatives or any hope of getting something, anything, to eat. Yes, sometimes he failed, sometimes they noticed him watching and he was tossed in the cupboard without supper anyway. Harry worked hard at being invisible, his father’s cloak would make it easy.

It had happened before, but never when he was sitting right there. Ron and Hermione both got owl notes at breakfast, both looked up to Headmaster at the same time who slowly nodded his head. Both shoved the notes in their robes and pretended nothing happened, then looked to see if Harry noticed. No, he was busy buttering his toast, careful to get the butter evenly spread. No, he didn’t see anything unusual happening with the people sitting on either side of him. No, he was clueless right? He didn’t even see the reflection in his knife of them nodding to each other over his head. Harry lowered his head further and rolled his eyes.

It was easy to remove the note from Ron’s pocket. Piers’ older brother taught him to pick pockets when he was nine. All Harry had to do was get him game cartridges from Dudley’s room. That was easy enough. If Dudley didn’t lose them, he broke them within a few days. He had to clean the pigsty anyway and what else were those gigantic hand-me-down clothes good for.

A pound here and there usually got Harry a meal or two on the weekends when his relatives were away and the refrigerator and cupboards were chained shut. Enough to buy energy bars and hide them under his lumpy mattress for days when there was no food. He didn’t do it often and picked his mark carefully. Even at a young age he understood odds and pushing your luck. He’d never had much luck to speak of.

Pier’s brother had started teaching him to pick locks before he was sent away to juvie. Harry wasn’t planning on a life of crime and managed with what he knew. He was just trying to get enough food to stay alive. He never bought new clothes or toys, things his Aunt would see. It would be confiscated and he’d be punished. He did buy a thicker blanket for his cot which he took great care to hide whenever he left the cupboard.

After he found out he was a wizard, Harry figured accidental magic had helped keep him alive and uncaught; gave him a certain edge. Now he laughed inside every time they called him a Freak. Yes, he was a freak and when he learned enough magic they’d disappear without a trace. They’d made him a freak and would suffer the consequences.

So he feigned sleepiness that night and went to bed early and closed his bed curtains while still dressed. The invisibility cloak never left his person after he’d caught Ron going through his trunk.

He learned to mask his scent after Mrs. Norris chased him, yowling loudly, down a couple corridors. He’d broken out in a sweat when he heard Filch’s heavy boots clomping along behind her. It had taken hours in the library to find the spell and then many attempts to get the spell to work. Next he would learn a silencing spell to hide his footsteps and rustling cloak. Snape had nearly caught him when he sneezed once.

He trailed his so-called friends and stuffed himself into a tiny alcove behind a statue near the door they entered. Someone had put out most of the torches so it was dark enough that he didn’t recognize all the people that arrived. Last one in locked the door, but didn’t notice the good inch of space between the bottom of the door and the floor. He’d found wizards weren’t very bright.

Ron’s whiny voice carried and Harry learned just how much his friendship was worth. At least Hermione demanded six more years of tuition and some expensive books, something that would last. Ron would blow the money on his first trip to Hogsmede. Neville might have been a shy, chubby boy with little magic but he wasn’t here, so his quiet offer of friendship was genuine. Too bad it wasn’t enough. A visit to Gringotts was in order, there was no way he was coming back here next year. There must be other magical schools somewhere.

When his two ex-friends came out and hurried back to their tower, Harry meant to follow them and get back inside before the portrait hole closed, but he too felt sick to move. One arm wrapped around his stomach and one held tight against his mouth. How stupid was he to have trusted them, believed their friendship. He knew better.

Maybe he could hold it long enough to get to the infirmary and spend the night there. He could spew all over the floor and Madame Pomfrey would give him a stomach soother and tuck him into a hospital cot. She would ignore his red eyes and not ask questions.

Yes, he’d known better, he had. Really. He’d thought… well no matter. He understood now. People were people, wizards or muggles. They weren’t your friends, they weren’t to be trusted. He gave a quiet, bitter chuckle.

“No! I will not allow it!” That was Snape’s voice. Harry’s head popped up at the angry shout. Apparently the meeting was still going on. “Do you even hear what you’re saying?” Something slammed on wood. “Are you raising the boy like a lamb to slaughter?” His voice was breathless in disbelief. Harry never thought to hear that tone from Snape. Then the words sunk in. _Lamb to the slaughter_.

Oh.

If Snape objected, it must be really bad because no one hated Harry more than Snape, well maybe his uncle. Harry leaned closer to the door, straining his ears, nausea nearly forgotten.

“Severus, need I remind you of your oath to me?” Whoa. Was that the Headmaster? His voice had gone all hard and dark. “You _will_ do as I tell you.” Other voices were raised in protest and the Headmaster shouted. “Allow me to know what’s best for the Greater Good!” That quieted them down. Damn. 

“But Headmaster…” Snape’s voice was so faint Harry could barely hear it. “I swore to protect the boy.” He had? Why? Swore to who? Harry shook his head in denial. This wasn’t happening, he must be dreaming.

“Calm yourself, Severus.” Harry could picture the twinkly eyes, they’d been used on him often enough. The Headmaster’s voice had gone back to ‘kindly old man’ mode. “It won’t be necessary for many years yet. Young Harry has a lot to do before then, but the prophecy _will_ be fulfilled before he can die. Then we’ll all be safe.”

Nope. Definitely not coming back here next year. He’d leave now if he could. He’d learned enough to live on the streets. He didn’t need much. They’d have to find him before they could sacrifice him to complete some prophecy he’d never heard of. Maybe he could do some research and find out about this ‘prophecy’.

Harry’s hands crept up to scrub away traitorous tears. The old man had fooled him good. He’d swallowed the whole grandfatherly shtick, hook, line, and sinker. Lamb to the slaughter. He knew what that meant. Pretty pathetic when the teacher that hated him the most was the only one that objected to killing him. 

The voices didn’t argue much longer. After a moment of silence, Harry scrunched up smaller thinking they’d be coming out shortly, he heard the Headmaster shout “Obliviate!” Then he quietly murmured something Harry couldn’t hear. Finally the door opened. 

Harry waited until all the shadowy people left, some heading for the stairs and some heading down the corridor. Even Snape seemed to have forgotten his earlier upset and silently strode away, his robes swirling along behind. Harry would have to look up _obliviate_ tomorrow after the students left for the holiday. It sounded like a good spell to know.

**> ~<>~<>~<>~<**

Harry scribbled down the strange words carved across the top of the mirror and studied them carefully. He could feel it pulling at him, calling him to _look, just look_. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. It took him two days of hiding from Ron to figure out the words were written backwards, like they would show in a mirror. _I show not your face, but your heart’s desire._ Duh. By two a.m. Harry was too curious to know what a magical mirror thought his heart’s desire could be and donned the invisibility cloak.

Thinking it might help, he kept one eye closed and peeked out the other one. Hmmm. A man and a woman and himself only not so short and skinny. His parents perhaps. Similar looking people were lining up behind them when the scene changed. Harry saw himself grown and free from his relatives and the wizarding world. He was dressed in a fine suit like a lawyer with an expensive briefcase. He was tall and proud. Harry smiled until he saw another man in the distance seemingly walking toward him, staring at him curiously, head tilted to the side wearing a funny looking hat that defied gravity. Harry peered closer, accidentally opening both eyes. Without realizing it he sat down in front of the mirror, entranced. Magic was _amazing_.

The man had dark hair and eyes. He didn’t look like any of the Potters from earlier, he seemed –

“Back again Harry?”

Enchantment broken, Harry jumped to his feet to find the Headmaster coming up behind him. _Shit._

He endured the lecture, half-listening, half-wanting to look at the mirror to see if the stranger was still there. Finally the Headmaster put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and guided him out. Harry got one quick glance behind him at the man pressed up close to the glass watching him. What. The. Hell.

Despite what the Headmaster said about moving the mirror, Harry checked the room the following day, but it was gone. He snatched his cloak up off the floor and swore at himself for dropping it. He shrugged and eventually forgot the mirror as one more curiosity of the castle. 

When he got tired of Ron and Hermione obsessing over Fluffy, the trapdoor, and Nicolas Flamel, he hid in a corner of the library painstakingly copying out useful spells. He was looking for some household cleaning spells to make his life easier at the Dursley’s. A copy spell would make things simpler. When the twins cornered him, he asked if they had a seen such a book. They had. He made a deal with them to loan them the cloak for a weekend if they taught him the copy spell. Both sides parted pleased with the outcome.

Despite not giving a damn about the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry found himself in a fight for survival with Voldemort growing out of the back of Quirrell’s head. He’d lost his wand early on and his scar _burned_. 

Somehow, Harry’s bare hands turned the professor into ash. It took several long minutes and both were screaming in agony before the end, but Harry refused to let go. He’d caught a glimpse of the man with the funny hat in the mirror running toward him before a stray spell shattered the glass into a million glittering shards raining over them. When he woke up in the infirmary, he decided he’d imagined it. Cause really? People weren’t in mirrors. He certainly didn’t tell the Headmaster who was there to interrogate him when he woke.

It was easy to manipulate Madam Pomfrey into letting him stay in the infirmary the last few days before the train left. An elf was sent to pack his trunk and bring it down to the hospital where he shoved it half under the bed. At least the rest of his stuff was safe from the nosy redhead.

**> ~<>~<>~<>~<**

Summer break didn’t start out the way Harry planned. As soon as the front door closed, his uncle, already incensed for some reason, started pounding Harry with his fists. He’d taped his wand and invisibility cloak to the back of his leg which was the only reason they weren’t in his trunk locked up in the closet under the stairs. He woke later on the floor of his room where he’d been dumped. 

He hid his precious items under a loose floorboard and jerked at the locked doorknob. For some reason there was a cheap, full-length mirror hanging on the back of his door. 

“I’ll pound the unnatural freakishness out of you boy, if it’s the last thing I do!” His uncle stood in the doorway, flecks of spit flying in Harry’s face. “You try anything and I’ll kill you.” His eyes glittered and Harry backed away in fear. Thankfully he’d left Hedwig with Hagrid.

He was only given water and beaten until he couldn’t stand. When his uncle realized he was blind without his glasses, he taped them to Harry’s head so they wouldn’t fall off when he was hit. In the morning he woke tied to the bed. When his uncle showed up that evening he told him the mirror was so he could see himself, see what power a filthy, freak wizard had over him. It didn’t take two days before Harry was praying for death, he couldn’t take this, he was only eleven. Then the impossible happened.

“Oi!” Voice low and growly, the man stepped out of the mirror and confronted Harry’s uncle. Harry’s eyes had grown big and he stopped struggling. His uncle didn’t notice the man until he spoke, then whirled to face the intruder with a roar.

“Bloody hell, ya bastard! Pick on someone your own size!” His voice was cold and steely now, sounding like Snape in a rage. The man leaned back and hit his uncle once in the stomach and then while he fell with an oof, hit him again in the temple. Vernon Dursley dropped like a dead fish. He outweighed the stranger by at least a hundred stone, maybe two, yet it had taken only two hits to defeat his uncle.

Harry lay there, gasping for breath, certain his ribs were broken. He looked back and forth between his uncle and the man. This must be what gobsmacked meant. His brain refused to work. Was this man a wizard that traveled between mirrors? Was that even possible? Maybe he was delirious. Maybe he was dead.

“It’s like this, mate.” The guy kept a bit of distance between them. Harry’s eyes kept going back to the body on the floor. _His uncle was dead_. This man had killed his uncle with two blows. Caved his head in like a melon. Harry tore his eyes away from his—the body and clenched his jaw to avoid puking all over himself. 

“Someone helped me out once, gave me a second chance. Saved me life, he did.” The man tilted his head and the stupid looking hat fell into his hands where he fiddled with the brim. “I reckon it’s time I passed that along. To you.

“I’ve watched you a bit. You fought back instead of crying and begging both times I’ve seen you fight grown men. You’re a survivor like me, I reckon. I’ve been alone for long time and I think we would work well together.”

“I’ll look out for you and teach you to look after yourself. I promise to never lie to you. I’m searching for someone but you’re welcome to come along. I don’t have a lot but I’m willing to share. I just can’t stand to see a kid beaten like this. Bloody bastard. I know what that feels like.” The stranger pulled a knife from his boot and took a step closer “On the other hand, this guy won’t be bothering you again so if you want to stay and deal with the fallout… your choice, mate. If you decide to stay, best I leave you tied up, you’d have an alibi like.” 

The stranger brushed sweat, blood-stained hair back, revealing the inflamed scar. He was careful not to touch the tape or glasses. “I suggest you see a witch doctor about that scar. There’s something … evil growing in there.” He reached out a finger, then changed his mind and shook his head.

Harry tried to speak, managing a hoarse croak. It hurt to talk but he needed answers. He couldn’t wait for the bruises around his neck time to heal. This could be a way out. He wouldn’t have to stay here or go back to Hogwarts or live on the streets. Sounded too good to be true. 

“Take … take me with you. Please.” Harry decided. It didn’t seem like the guy would come through a mirror – _a mirror_ – to save him just to turn around and hurt him himself. He didn’t give off a pervy vibe either. In truth the guy seemed kind of sad. “I can cook and … clean and … garden. I’ll earn my keep… promise.” He was gasping between words and his voice was wrecked, but he could whisper.

The guy cut the ropes holding Harry to the bed with quick flicks of the knife and helped him sit up, wrapping the thin blanket around him. He slid the knife back into his boot after wiping it casually across the sheet. 

Harry cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “I saw you … in the Mirror of Erised at… at Hogwarts. How … did you do that?” He carefully pulled at the tape until his glasses came free. The lenses were covered in flecks of blood and he wiped them on the blanket, smearing them worse. The guy took them from his hands and cleaned them on the sheet.

He shrugged, grinning widely at Harry. “That’s one of the things I’ll be teaching you. It takes magic, but I reckon you got plenty of that.” He found a half filled water bottle and pushed it into Harry’s shaking hands. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“I hate them.” Harry choked and slopped some of the water down his front as he stared down at his uncle’s body crumpled on the floor. The side of his head was still caved in and blood was starting to pool under it. “How… how did you hit someone that hard with … your fist?” He closed his eyes and fought to keep the water down.

The guy grinned again and shrugged. “That’s my magic.” He looked around the room frowning heavily. “Can’t teach you that though, I was born with it.”

“Can … can you get my trunk out of the closet under the stairs? It has all my stuff. Will that be a problem?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ with a wide grin leaning in toward Harry’s face. Harry leaned back and blinked at him, swallowing a moan. The guy stood and stepped over the body, avoiding the blood and went out the door. “You can call me Hatter.” By the time Harry heard him kicking in the closet door, he’d retrieved his wand and cloak from under the loose floorboard and had used the rest of the water to wash his face and hands, wiping them on the sheet.

“My name’s Harry. Harry Potter.” He said when Hatter returned carrying his trunk easily. “I’ll do my best … learn everything you teach me.” He would owe this guy and would try hard to repay him no matter how long it took. 

“Can’t ask for more than that.” Hatter nodded and walked over to the mirror. “Let me take this through and I’ll come back for you.” 

Harry slid off the bed, holding onto the footboard with one hand, his two treasures in the other. He ached all over and hoped he had enough potions in his trunk to heal the damage his uncle had done. He wanted to stomp over there and kick the dead lump, but he could barely stand up.

“Ready, mate?” Hatter was back and scooped up Harry, blanket and all. “You’re light as a feather.” He shook his head with an angry scowl. “Well, we’ll soon fix that.” He stopped in front of the mirror, turned around, propped Harry against the wall and dug around in his coat pockets. “Ah.” He pulled out a lighter and held it up. “I always find a nice, cozy fire covers a multitude of sins.” Hatter strode over to the bed and lit the pitiful excuse for a pillow. 

“Well then, let’s get you to a doctor.” With a wide grin, he was back and one last look at the blazing bed, Harry left the wizarding world.

**> ~<>~<>~<>~<**

And learn he did.

He learned all about the traitor Prince Jack who'd spun the dial and had the Suits toss him through the Wonderland mirror neither knowing nor caring where he ended up. He learned all about Wonderland, Oysters and running Tea Shops. And Alice, can’t forget Alice. He learned more than enough about her.

He learned how to better read people, people who were hiding behind masks, people who weren’t and how to tell the difference. He learned how to tell who was bluffing and who really would kill him given half a chance. He didn’t mind being known as Hatter’s boy. It had only taken one kidnapping. Hatter rescued him by messily cutting up several men to make an example. No one touched him after that. At least not in that world.

He didn’t have a hammer fist so he learned about guns and knife work.

“You’re small.” Hatter walked around him, scrutinizing with narrow eyes. “Men’ll grab you up and think they’ve got you. A knife or two will even that.” He tilted his head to one side as Harry tried to stand taller. “You’ll learn to run and hide where they can’t reach you.”

Harry made a protesting noise. He wasn’t a coward!

Hatter grinned. Sometimes Harry wanted to smack that grin off his face. “You’re small, best accept it mate. But…” Hatter held up a finger. “You might not be able to reach a throat or a heart easily for now, but a man will never chase you again if you cut his hamstring.” He chuckled and ruffled Harry’s hair. “And he’ll die just as quick if you cut off his balls.”

He learned how to keep his emotions hidden, an earnest, innocent look on his face.

“You’re young and cute and have big green eyes.” Hatter nodded. “You can use that. Work in front of a mirror, a regular mirror…” he rolled his eyes at Harry’s eager look, “until you can pout prettily and flirt with innocent eyes as you take everything they own.” Harry grinned up at him, liking that idea. “We’ll get your eyes fixed, no more glasses for you, yeah?” He walked around Harry again. “Old ladies will eat you right up.”

He learned to rule men and minions alike. And how to get them. He learned how to make the mark beg to be scammed.

He learned how to kill, not only with a knife. “Killing’s not as easy as it looks and best left as a last resort.” Hatter warned. “Most people are just idiots and you can’t kill someone just because they’re stupid and annoying.” He tossed that dumb hat in the air. “You need minions and stupid people to do the work you can’t. Or won’t.” The hat plopped perfectly onto his head though he had moved, but never looked up. “When you learn to control your mind and your body, there’s nothing you can’t accomplish.”

He’d find something besides a lousy hat to practice with. Something not corny or hokey or… What was that movie where the bad guy rolled a coin across his knuckles? It would accomplish the same thing, drawing eyes away from what he was really doing. He’d practice until he could dance a coin across his fingers. A golden Galleon would surely catch the eye.

He learned what things to value and what held illusionary value or momentary pleasure. Money was easy to get, power not so much. Control over self was a hard learned lesson, but returned lifelong value and rewards.

It was several years before Harry ended up killing a man. Hatter was wrong, it was easy, so very easy. He didn’t even need to imagine his uncle’s fat face on the guy. A moment later he puked all over the body, himself and Hatter’s boots. Hatter laughed at him, then examined his boots in disgust. “Takes quite a few times to harden the stomach.” He quirked up his lips at his boots and sighed. “I’ll stand farther back next time and wear me old boots. Maybe before lunch instead of after.” 

In between cons, he practiced magic. Teaching himself from the books they’d gotten in Diagon Alley a few weeks after Hatter had rescued him or worked with the many tutors Hatter hired in a variety of subjects.

Hatter had taken him to a high-class beauty parlor in London where they painted golden blond streaks in his hair before cutting it until it looked stylish. Brown contacts and a bit of makeup over his scar and his own aunt wouldn’t recognize him.

He picked up a few other things after a visit to Gringotts where he’d emptied the gold from his trust vault and instructed them to seal the Potter vaults until he was of age. He didn’t trust the Headmaster not to dip his greedy fingers in if he couldn’t find Harry. He explained he would be out of contact until then and was surprised that goblins knew about inter-dimensional traveling and would know if he died. They would create a Heart Stone thing that went black if he died, no matter where he was. He made a will leaving everything to Neville Longbottom so the Headmaster couldn’t get a single Knut.

Hatter stayed by his side and didn’t say much. Harry figured he was there to keep him from killing a few people on his list and protect him from a few others. They ventured into Knockturn Alley where Hatter made some dicey deals and Harry got a second wand and a couple leg holsters. Hatter also picked out some good throwing knives and an arm bracer to hold them, one for himself and one for Harry.

“Maybe when things die down a bit, we’ll come back and get you a magical tutor and put those books to good use.” Hatter said as they left Knockturn. “Wand magic seems a bit more powerful than what I’m used to.”

“Yeah ok.” Harry sighed. He’d hoped to be done with the whole learning thing, a bit unrealistic since he was only twelve. To be honest, he was unable to read a spell and immediately cast it. He wasn’t Hermione after all.

“Oi! Look, you made the front page.” Hatter nudged his shoulder and nodded his head at the newspaper stand. Huge type proclaimed ‘HARRY POTTER DEAD _. Boy-Who-Lived Burned to Death in Muggle Relatives’ Home_.

Biting his lips, Harry nearly skipped over and fished a sickle out of his pocket. Tucking the paper carefully into his robe, he fought the grin that wanted to split his face. It wouldn’t do to be seen smiling at the death of The Boy Who Lived. He would take this paper home and frame it. No one would be looking for him now! He was _free_!

He wondered how bad their forensics were to proclaim him dead with no body or bones or whatever was left after a fire. The Headmaster must be going insane. A giggle escaped and Hatter tucked Harry under his arm and pulled him away.

He looked up and saw Hagrid in the distance, head and shoulders above the crowd. _Hagrid. His first friend_. He dropped his eyes and the damn tears threatened. His steps dragged, but Hatter got them out of Diagon Alley and into the first restaurant they came to in London proper. After ordering he made Harry explain his reaction before they returned via a mirror Hatter found in an abandoned townhouse. 

“He rescued me from my relatives and showed me a whole new world without ever asking for anything. I thought he was my friend until I found out he was the one that brought me to my relatives in the first place.” Harry slouched in his seat and stared at his plate, not hungry anymore. “Dumbles orders, he claimed.”

Hatter nodded and swirled the tea in his cup, eyes hidden. “Look at it this way, mate. Your Headmaster took a very large, very strong, simple man and bound him. He did it with love, not force or blackmail. Hagrid will do anything the Headmaster asks, trusting him to know best.” He grimaced over a sip of cold tea and dropped the cup back in the saucer with a clatter. “You can’t buy those kind of minions. They will never, ever betray you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and dipped his head to the side considering. “Is that what you’re doing to me?” His hands tightened on the silverware. It was a bit too late for an epiphany. “Turning me into a minion who won’t betray you?”

Hatter looked at him with a solemn face and laughing eyes. “Of course. Didn’t you see the whole stable of boys at home, falling all over each other to do my bidding?”

He’d promised never to lie to him. It could be true, but what difference did it make. He could understand that motive better than selfless heroism that didn’t exist in real life. Besides, it’s not like he wasn’t getting anything out of this himself. He was learning and now he had someone who would protect him until he could protect himself. Someone willing to teach him how to take care of himself. Hatter wouldn’t hurt him. His true motives really didn’t matter. Hatter had rescued him and they were stuck with each other. 

Harry relaxed his hands. He’d already seen how Hatter could tell the truth to make it sound like a lie and vice versa. He could make people believe whatever he said. Harry wanted that. He wanted a place to belong. He had that and more now. Finally.

Hatter watched him, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Harry jerked back, protesting wordlessly. If he didn’t stop that, he was going to cut the man’s hand off. Just as soon as he got a big enough knife. Well, maybe the left one, he thought with a grin, they’d probably need that right hand Hammer Fist.

**> ~<>~<>~<>~<**

“She’s an a-a-angel, Harry. A real, live angel from heaven.” Hatter waved the bottle in emphasis, grinning drunkenly at Harry. “She almost kissed me. Me.” He hiccupped and slid sideways on the sofa. “Are you listening, Harry? Harry? Haaaaaryyy?”

“Yes. Yes. Alice is perfect.” Harry grabbed the bottle before more whisky spilled. At least it wasn’t one of the hoarded jars of Oyster emotions that scared Harry to think about.

“Yessss.” Hatter slurred, eyes half shut. “Perfect, perfect Alice.” He sat up suddenly and clutched Harry’s sleeve, dragging him closer. “She’s so good, Harry. Too good for bloody Jack. Too good for Hatter. She saved me.” He hiccupped and Harry sighed at the tears starting to run down his face. These were the only times Hatter let go the tight control he had on his emotions. The grin and wiggly eyebrows came easy. Hatter was a great actor, seeming to know the exact emotion that would work a mark. He was gentle with Harry and cared for him, but love was bottled up and saved for Alice. 

“You’ve got me.” Harry whispered looking away. “You don’t need _her_.”

“Proud of ya, mate.” Hatter’s eyes sought his. “You learnt better’n I ‘magined.” He tried to laugh, but it was more of a gurgle. “Promise me…” he seemed to doze off for a moment. “…promise, if something happens, you’ll find her and tell her…” his eyes went vacant and Harry leaned forward trying to hear the words that ran together. “…tell her… tell her I tried.” He looked beseechingly up at Harry with bleary eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Harry said easily, crossing his fingers.

Hatter collapsed back against the sofa. “Knew I could count on you.” He nodded a few times. “She’s perfect. Alice. Did I tell you ‘bout Alice?” His head lolled to the side when his fogged eyes couldn’t see. “Harry?’

Harry nodded. Hatter was mumbling, his accent had grown thicker and the words slurred together. “Yes she is,” he agreed, tugging his sleeve free. It wouldn’t be much longer before Hatter passed out and things would settle down for a few months. Alice would be forgotten in the morning as they planned the next op.

“So _good_.” Hatter reached for Harry’s sleeve again, fingers grasping on air, not realizing he was out of reach. Or maybe he was reaching for the bottle. “So good… makes me want to be good.” The last was a whisper. “Turn legit for her, I would. No, I _will_ …” Hatter’s eyes closed and Harry hid the bottle before covering Hatter up with the blanket on the back of the sofa. 

“Find Alice. Gotta find Alice.” Hatter’s dark eyes opened, then closed with a sigh that turned into a hiccup. Harry knew he was remembering a nineteen or twenty year old girl. Who knew how old she was now or what she looked like. Hatter probably wouldn’t know her if they did find her.

“We’ll find her.” Harry promised again. Over his dead body. 

Harry studied Hatter’s slack features. He was smart and cunning and successful at what they did. If love made him want to find this Alice and turn his back on everything he had – change his whole life for her, Harry wanted no part of love. 

He’d been with Hatter for over two years and the man freely admitted he had no idea how long he’d been searching for a mirror to Alice’s world before that. He knew it had been years. There was no way back to Wonderland either. 

They’d made a home of sorts in this place, a central base Hatter called it. All cons had been handled in other mirror worlds, nothing could trace them or follow them back here. Not even vengeful Dark Lords or manipulative Headmasters, though Harry was careful to avoid the English Wizarding World after collecting all the Potter gold and several books on magic. It was the magic that made all the difference.

As long as Hatter wore the Ring… He’d promised to make help Harry create his own when he was sixteen and his magic was strong enough to control the mirrors. It had taken Hatter years to create his Ring, one that could control any mirror.

Hatter had been alone far too long, making him crazy and obsessed over a girl he’d known for a few days. He wasn’t alone anymore. Together they were enough. It might take years, but Harry would make him see that. 

There was no place for some goody-two-shoes in their cozy little life. Maybe after he had his own Ring, maybe Hatter could retire with Alice and raise babies in the country. Until then, they were a family and there wasn’t room for anyone else.

**> ~<>~<>~<>~<**

Fin


End file.
